Hips Don't Lie
by bloodywolf7
Summary: Kind of a set after we find out Tom is Jacob, or Facob as I like to call him. Anyway, shameless pwp smutty lizzington one-shot. First story ever, so please no flames. Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or anything related to blacklist at all ever in my life ever.
1. Chapter 1

Lizzie didn't usually do this kind of thing. She didn't go to the clubs, she curled up at home with a book, or called Reddington trying wheedle more names from him. She definitely didn't go to the club she found herself in. But with her life falling around her, Tom, or Jacob, or whoever the hell he really was a fake, she felt she'd lost control. She just wanted to forget. To live, to feel something other than the despair her life had become. She could've called Red, could've gone to him and he would have welcomed her but she was weary. Weary of him, of herself, of their relationship and the constant underlying tone she felt between them. She wondered idly if Red noticed it as well.

She showed the bouncer her I.D. and was waved inside. Her senses were assaulted by flashing strobe lights and a club mix of Justin Timberlake's Bringing sexy back. She made her way through the writhing dancing crowds to the bar, shouting her order to the bartender.

The music pulsated around her and through her and as she drank drink after drink, she found herself moving to the beats flowing around her. Several men were eying her form the dance floor and finally she gave in. she lost herself to the pulsing sounds and feelings and let caution fly out the window.

Lizzie found her way into the throng of people dancing around, writhing their bodies together, oblivious to hers as well as their own inner turmoil. _I guess that's the point_ , she thought to herself, dancing in the crowd of men that had been watching her. The strobe lights bounced around them and they writhed together, hips grinding and hands grabbing and every time one touched her she felt herself feel just a little. Felt her mind slip just a little further from all the confusing feelings of her life and relationships, or perhaps lack thereof on some fronts. Lizzie wasn't sure how long she danced. She was sweaty and breathless and had moved from throng to throng of men and women, dancing with some, dancing against some.

And all the while she drank. Sometimes water, more often than not alcohol. At one point she did shots with the group of men she'd first started dancing with before moving on.

 _Red._

The thought unbidden came to her mind, the hair on the back of her neck standing. She knew he was there. Before she'd seen him, she knew he was there and he was watching her. Her inebriated mind perked up at the thought. She had lost control. Of her life, of her feelings, and the alcohol and wild dancing was almost cathartic. And now the center of her issues, however loathe she was to admit it, was there and watching her. She slowed her movements, circling slowly looking for the man in question from the dance floor.

There! Her brain shouted at her. And there he was, sure enough. Shakira boomed through the speakers, the beginning of her hit song Hips Don't Lie. He looked relaxed, thoroughly at home though the seedy night club was far from his usual debonair settings. He was wearing his cream colored three piece suit, the jacket thrown over the back of the leather sofa he sat upon. His legs crossed and his arms were against the back edge as well.

One moment she was still, gazing hazily at the man of her thoughts. The man that consumed her being more than she cared to admit. And in the next she was moving with the beat, slowly, provocatively dancing toward him and he watched her. Across the dancefloor and into the secluded corner he occupied. She ran her hands up into her hair, biting her lip and she saw him move infinitesimally the closer she got.

This she could control. This attraction, this need to feel and need to feel him, she could control this. It was the only thing she could control maybe. As she drew closer, the song pulsing around them, she realized that was just a semblance of her imagination as well. Because she was drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. And his flame was bright beacon of light in her otherwise current desolate existence.

She shed her jacket, dropping it haphazardly to the floor as she moved. She didn't care she probably wouldn't see it again.

"Lizzie!" he smiled at her, his voice deeper than usual. His eyes watched her body move and just maybe she thought he was as drawn to her for the same reasons. He had to be, he'd said she was his second chance after all.

"Red," she came closer, bypassing formalities and putting a knee on the couch next to his thigh. She could feel the heat from his body, feel the electricity in the air between them.

"What a wonderful evening," Red continued, a slight hitch to his voice. She was shimmying above him, making speech difficult. He'd followed her to this club to insure her safety, to be sure she wouldn't be reckless. But it seemed he would be her reckless decision tonight. He wasn't sure how he felt about that either. He was sure though he could never tell her no.

Lizzie felt alive as she danced against his lap, sliding her hands down her breasts and back up, throwing her head back and smiling at the way the music made her feel.

Red watched her carefully, looking for any signs that she wasn't making this decision with a moderately clear mind. But the more she danced to the music against him, the more she stared silently at his face, the more he realized she knew what she was doing and knew in kind what she wanted.

A jolt shocked through her system when she placed her hands on his shoulders, felt the warm sinew of his muscles beneath his expensive dress shirt. He breathed harshly through his nose, letting her know he'd felt it too. Her confidence boosted, she climbed onto his lap completely, lowering her body to his and gyrated her hips against his seductively. He twitched beneath her and she felt it in another shock wave of intensity.

"Lizzie," he murmured as she leaned above him, her hair creating a shroud from the outside light. His mossy green eyes bore into hers. He'd said only her name, but implied so much, much more. Her fingers curled into the material of his clothing, wrinkling the fine fabric and then she was smashing her lips to his. It was rough and primal, pent up aggravation and wanton behavior flowing freely and he ate her up. His teeth nipped her lips and she moaned against him, opening her mouth in acceptance of his probing tongue and all thought fled her mind.

This was what she wanted. This was the feeling she'd been searching for all night. The electric taste of his lips against hers was so much more, so much more than any touch she'd felt out on the dance floor earlier that evening. She felt his arms come around to her back, his strong hands sliding up her back and down again to squeeze at her hips as she continued her slow and heady gyrations against his groin.

"Mm, Red," she moaned between kissing him and kissing his chin and jaw. She was drunk on his flavor, so uniquely his. Sweet like a fine wine with the fiery kick of that expensive scotch and bourbon he so loved and just a hint of the cigars he smoked. It was a heady concoction and she wanted. No she _needed_ more of him.

"Sweetheart, if this is a one-time deal, a mindless romp, I'll gladly give you it, but know I can't come back from this," his voice trudged through her addled mind and though it should have shocked the sense into her, he was the FBI's fourth most wanted, the liaison to catching criminals, a criminal himself, it merely solidified her suspicions about them. She'd wanted him since he'd began showing her the truth about her life, her friends, her husband. The seeds had been planted long ago, this was just their culmination.

"I don't want to come back from this," she breathed against his lips, sliding her hands from his shoulders to unbutton his shirt, his vest having been open she reached him earlier. Her fingers didn't even tremble as his shirt opened beneath them. Her body however did. It was eager. She was eager.

Red let her push his shirt, vest and all, from his shoulders, and though he had a mild flash of panic at the thought of her feeling his scars, it was quickly quashed when she ran her hands through the soft hair on his chest. Her nails scraped lightly across his nipples and he groaned, bucking involuntarily against her body. She felt his warm hands, calloused and rough, slide up the smooth expanse of her back beneath her green wide neck tee, pulling it quickly over her head and dropping it beside them.

"Lizzie," Red moaned again, burying his face against her chest, kissing and nibbling the mounds of her cleavage. "Lizzie," he seemed stuck on her name as he kissed up the milky expanse of her skin to tug at her white lace bra with his teeth. He tugged down over her nipple, greedily sucking the pink hardened flesh into his mouth.

"Oh, Red," she groaned and pushed against his face. This was what she'd wanted for so long, locked away inside her, this want and need. The tendrils of desire raced around her body from where he sucked and nibbled her puckered nipple, to where his hands were deftly undoing the clasp of her bra. He leaned back long enough to let her slide it from her body. His eyes dilated and wide drank her in. he wanted there, _right there,_ but he'd be damned to let prying eyes spy his beautiful woman.

Later, Elizabeth might have wondered how they left the club unseen, or why he had a car waiting out back with Dembe in the driver's seat. She might have wondered what happened to her own car and the articles of clothing that got left at the club but that was later.

She was in the now.

And the now was in Red's hotel suite, top penthouse overlooking downtown DC. The night was beautiful, the moon full and bright, shining in from the balcony but she wasn't concerned about it. And neither was he. His lips found hers again, fumbling through the penthouse to the bedroom and toppling down to the mattress.

"Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie," he rumbled again and again, leaving wet open kisses down her neck and chest and she writhed against him as she had in the club. Moaning for more when he sucked a nipple into his mouth, flicking the nub with his tongue over and over. Wet heat flooded her jeans and panties and she moaned at the uncomfortably arousing way it felt. Her hands rubbed at his short hair, neither guiding nor pulling him in any particular direction, she was simply lost to his wandering mouth. He kissed across her chest, showing equal fervor to her neglected nipple and she moaned low in her throat. A sweet, little moan that he wanted to her again and again.

"Red, Red more, please," she began tugging her jeans down and he was happily to oblige her. Helping her remove her heels, stocking and jeans in a few moments. She was naked before him, her skin a beautiful creamy pearl in the light of the moon. Flushed from her face down into her neck and chest and he needed her now, right now. Quickly he shed his trousers and shoes, as if he didn't have a care in the world for the expensive price tags she knew were attached to them.

He was an attentive lover, kissing up and down her legs, nibbling behind her knees, swirling his tongue in the hollows of her hips and devolving her to a quivering mess of nerves and lust. Everywhere he touched her was fire and ice, a combination of electricity and grounding at the same time.

"Red, please!" she moaned breathlessly, her hands knotted in the sheets and he teased her most intimate places. His fingers brushed her lips, a chuckle escaping him.

"Lizzie, sweetheart, I intend to enjoy you," he gruffly moaned from between her legs, lightly sliding his tongue across her heated sex and she cried out. A keening wail that had the man inside him strutting about.

"Oh, Lizzie," he groaned and delved into her. She cried out again, another keening wail that carried his name as he licked and sucked her lips, kissing her most intimately as if he would her mouth. He sat up, grasping her bottom in his hands and her legs over his shoulder and she arched from the bed, pushing into his mouth as best she could and Red groaned against her. The sound vibrating deliberately through her womanhood. She quivered against his lips and mouth, her clit hard and begging attention and he scraped his teeth over the bundle of nerves before sucking into his mouth and flicking it back and forth.

"Fuck, Red!" she cried, coming rivulets into his mouth and he lapped her up eagerly, his own hard arousal bobbing with anticipated release, slick with precum already. He intended to let her rest a moment, to lavish her body with more attention and let her nerves calm but as soon as he laid her hips back down to the bed she was pulling him atop her, grinding her hips against his, his cock sliding easily and slickly against her folds making them both groan.

"Now, red, no more, now," she flipped them and he willingly rolled to his back. He inhaled sharply when her hand wrapped around his hard length, her hand stroking slowly, almost lazily. She rose above him, one hand curled into the hair on his chest, and positioned her body above his. His hands kneaded her hips and together they guided her body down slowly. His thick head popped into her body, stretching her wider than any other man she'd ever been with. In unison, their groans echoed around the room, bouncing off the walls and furniture.

"Liiiizziiiiee," he moaned drawn out, like her name was a benediction itself. He bottomed out against her cervix, and she stilled, letting her body accommodate his generous endowment. His hands reflexively squeezed and released her hips over and over and his eyes bore into hers.

"Like a goddess," he murmured, a hand sliding up to cup a breast and knead gently, his thumb flicking her nipple and she bit her lip. The moon cast half her face and his in shadow and she began to move against him. A slow grinding ride against him and he moaned at her muscles stretching and collapsing again and again around her.

"Lizzie I want to kiss you," he groaned, sliding the hand at her breast into her hair and pulling her down. She willing came to him, laying the length of his body as they moved together. He had one hand on her bottom, kneading the flexing muscle and one at her neck. And he kissed her. He kissed her like a dying man in the desert drinking his first cold cup of water. She groaned at his intensity, tasted his affection and want and returned the fervor as best she could and he moaned at her as well. The friction his chest hair created against her as she slid against him was invigorating and wanton. Soon she was moving faster and faster, craving that release with him.

"Oh Lizzie, sweetheart, ride me," he growled against her lips, his hips hitting hers in a counter rhythm that had her eyes rolling backward in her head. She groaned and writhed, and he moaned and countered and their bodies moved fluidly together until she was moaning his name breathlessly as he rolled them over.

"Red, oh Red right there," she groaned, her electric blue eyes wide and unseeing as he pounded into her body over and over. Her legs wrapped around his hips and changed the trajectory of his body into hers and they both groaned loudly at the depth he was hitting now.

"So close, Lizzie, I'm so close," he kissed her ravenously, grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head, stretching her body beneath his. He put her wrists into one hand, using the other to hoist one of her legs up onto his shoulder and she shattered explosively around his engorged manhood.

"Red, fuck yes, Red, Red, Raaaymond!" she moaned as her climax washed over her. His given name tumbling from her lips pushed his control to a snap and he was climaxing, coming hard in long gushing spurts into her body.

"Lizzie…" he sighed harshly, falling to the side of her body. He was gratified when she tugged on his hand, pulling him over to her side and wrapping his arm around her side. She was asleep in moments, pulled in by her exhaustion and the evening's pursuits. He watched her a moment, counted her soft breaths as she breathed, and realized just how gut wrenchingly deep he was in love with her. Sighing, he pulled the comforter over them, curling against her back and was gratified again when she settled closer to him, murmuring his name in her sleep. He watched her until exhaustion overtook him as well, falling into the most peaceful sleep he'd had in years.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Ok so I wasn't going to do more but I got such great reviews I decided to let my mind wander. Well here's chapter two. I know it's scattered and a little weird and wired but I promise the next chapter will be better and infinitely smuttier. I'm going on the line of thinking that Red is possessive. And I think to an extent he is. I also think he's the kind of man that once he's gotten something, gotten a taste, especially of a long awaited item, he'd be like a dog with a bone. He'd want it, when he wants it, how he wants. And he knows Lizzie does too. So this chapter is kinda the lead up to what's going to be make up/you're mine/never so long between sexy fun times again kind of thing. Just…bear with me, its' going somewhere not sure where it's still kind PWP but…kinda not. I don't know. Don't own anything!**

The sun streamed into the room, sparkling and beautiful through the glass panes of the balcony doors. Birds chirped happily, cars honked horns busy on the way to work and a soft breeze brought the early morning smell of dew and fresh bakeries.

 _Fuck, my head, it's pounding_ , Lizzie thought to herself. Her dreamscape world shattered with a screech as she came fully awake. Jackhammers replaced the chirping birds and the sun felt like it was gleefully stabbing her eyes with dull, rusty knives. She rolled over, grumbling into her pillow.

Only it wasn't her pillow.

She bolted upward, increasing the ache in her head, as memories, tastes and touches flooded her brain from the night before. Oh my. The smell of sex still hung heavily in the air. It was as if their scents had wound around each other, suffused with their passion. She began to panic. Her coworkers couldn't know, Director Cooer definitely could not know.

But she'd meant what she'd said.

 _Ok Lizzie, take a deep breath, don't freak out now, what's done is done_ , she took deep calming breaths, coaching herself through her mild panic until it subsided completely. Squinting to keep as little light from entering her corneas as possible, she looked around the suite room. The balcony off to her right was open, the beautifully paned sliding glass doors as wide as they'd go. An armchair sat diagonally from her in the corner and, thank god, her clothing was there, laundered and clean. Directly beside her sat a nightstand, a bottle of blue Gatorade and some aspirin. She quickly downed the pills and half the bottle, directing her attention to the other side of the room. She could hear a shower running. Hoping Dembe was out, she got up quickly and dressed.

She'd meant what she'd said, she didn't want to come back from that. But things were different in the harsh light of the morning and reality. He was the FBI's fourth most wanted fugitive, and though he was working with them, many of her coworkers wouldn't care if he ended up thrown in the darkest pit for his treasonous crimes.

However if she was honest with herself, the way they'd felt together…the way he'd felt against her.

Red was intense. She was intense.

They were intense together in every sense of the word.

Shame and wanton lust colored her cheeks. Shame for leaving, knowing it would bother him. Shame for wanting more. Wanting him. Wanting _them_. Shame that she knew in her heart of hearts she didn't care about his title or hers, and finally shame that she knew she would avoid him because she knew she wouldn't, or rather was afraid she _couldn't_ , control herself and her reactions to him at the Post Office.

Not after a night like that. Of feeling so alive, so beautiful and reckless and….and loved.

*Three Weeks Later*

Weeks since that night. Weeks of grueling work and paranoia and her mind spiraling back downward again. she couldn't keep Red from her mind, couldn't stop him from infiltrating her dreams. It would always be dark, either in her office or in the parking garage or somewhere else, and always let at night. He would catch up to her, he would demand to know why she was avoiding him, why she went through with having sex with him, if only to turn around and seemingly try to boot him from her life.

Lizzie would always stutter, heat coloring her cheeks. Pain that she'd hurt him with her actions and desire always slipping up and down her spine in languid tendrils of electricity. He always had his jacket off too. his hat gone and his glasses in the v of his expensive and soft button up shirt. she would try to make excuses, work and taking care of Hudson and trying to realign her wrecked life but his angry green eyes always saw right through her.

He would back her up against her car, his anger melting to more primal desires. Heat would suffuse his face and being, emanating from him like a furnace and her body always reacted but always right before he would reach for her, right before his hands would greedily grab her to his body, always right before his lips reached hers in a scorching kiss to tempt Aphrodite herself, she would wake.

Elizabeth was almost at the end of her own game.

Red had tried, futily, to contact her. to see her in person, whether at work or dropping by her motel room of the week or month, always reaching out. and then he'd stopped. Red was a smart man, he knew she'd tire herself. She wasn't one to beat around and she wasn't one to play long, if at all. At least in matters like these. She would come to him. or she would go out again. or maybe she'd do both, but his Lizzie would find her way back to him. And when she did…

Lizzie stared at the wall of her motel, idly flipping channels on the old tv though she didn't pay the shows or infomercials any mind. The day had been rough, several close calls out in the field, several close calls of being cornered by Reddington. He was hurt and he was annoyed, and she could see easily through his bravado.

But she'd meant what she said, all those weeks ago, and it seemed like it'd been an eternity.

She was wired and falling again. she didn't really remember getting up or getting dressed, or the fact her outfit was almost exactly the same as the last time she'd gone to that club. She didn't remember leaving her room, locking the door or walking through the city.

She guessed she did, she wouldn't have done it without her mind obviously leading her somewhere. But it was as if it was in her dreams. The dark night and darker still clouds with the drizzling cool rain an added bonus to her surreal life. But there she was.

The neon sign flashed at her, music booming from beneath where she knew the floor was packed, the bar well stocked and where she knew she could rid herself of her riduclous thoughts.

And Red.

Yes, Red.

She flashed her ID at the bouncer and quickly descended into the club again. back through the throngs of people, past the bar and the DJ and the various couples grinding and moaning and kissing against the back wall to that back cubby where the only thing that had ever made sense to her in the last few months had taken place.

Red.

Yes, Red.

She was clearly thinking now, clearer than she'd been a few weeks ago. She didn't want an excuse to run and if she were honest with herself, that was part of the reason she'd bolted. That and fear.

"Ah, Elizabeth, I was wondering when you might grace this place with your lovely presence," his deep baritone voice bringing her back from her thoughts. He reclined, his leg crossed over his knee and his arms back against the top edge of that couch. her blue eyes, almost neon themselves in the mute strobing darkness danced between his. Mossy and green and oh so deliciously fraught with emotion and want. he smiled tightly, chewing the inside of his cheek.

Red swept his hand out before placing it back against the edge of the couch. "Please, join me."

She strode toward him, more purpose to her step now. He wanted her here, wanted her with him. she wanted him. a moment before she would have sat across his lap, his hand darted out, grabbing her wrist and pulling lightly, causing her to tumble to the couch next to him rather than on him. his grip wasn't painful, but it was tight and her eyes were locked on his tan skin, striking against her paler complexion.

"Red…" she murmured, looking at him in bewilderment. This wasn't what she wanted and she knew, judging by the fit of his expensive suit pants, it wasn't what he'd necessarily had in mind either.

"We need to talk, Lizzie," he rumbled back at her, his voice deep in his chest and his eyes locked more insistently on hers. "We need to talk, because I told you I couldn't come back from that moment, sweetheart, I told you I couldn't."

Lizzie gasped slightly, the emotion in that thick statement rolled over her in waves. He was hurt worse than she thought and his patience wore thinner than she'd imagined. She swallowed hard in mild anticipation. He was aggravated yes, and he may very well want to talk to her. However she knew him better than he thought. The muscle under his eye twitched, his lips pursed and his pulse jumped at the base of her throat.

Talking wasn't on his mind either. No this was something more, this was something deep inside him, the part of him called man, lover, the part of him that was possessive.

Raymond Reddinton was not a man accustomed to waiting. He was not a man accustomed to excessive need. He'd had lovers, many and vast. He'd tasted a need and want for a woman as much as the next gentleman. But this…this was different. This was voracious and immediate and after he'd had her, after he'd tasted her…

Raymond Reddington was not a man that denied himself either. And Elizabeth was going to learn that lesson tonight. Her eyes held his and the tension and heat grew between them, their scents and bodies responding to and off one another. The want she'd felt accumulating in the back of her mind for him burst from its designated cell, consuming her body in a flash of white hot heat. It filled her body and mind until she could only think one thing, could only want one thing. Red knew the moment it spilled forth, felt his own body reacting.

Raymond Reddinton intended to make her understand tonight that she was his and he was hers and there wasn't anything he wanted to do about it. He would make her understand the absolute all-consuming love he had for her and he would make her understand he'd wait for the world to end for her.

Elizabeth swallowed hard, feeling sparks where his fingers were still wrapped around her wrist. Somehow she knew the conversation he wanted to have wouldn't be happening here. It wouldn't' happen this evening at all, not in depth. She did know he was going to make her suffer.

And oh it would be a delicious tortuous suffering she'd gladly take. Because just like that, the wind was gone from her sails and she was done fighting them. Three weeks had been torture enough.

"Red, please," she murmured again, a might bit more strained and he relished the tightness of her voice, he relished the pulsating beat of music and lights around them, relished that he could see the color in her face and feel the thrumming of her want and body in her pulse at her wrist.

"What do you want, Elizabeth?" he stood, taking her with him and they were leaving through a serious of back hallways. His fingers still tight around her wrist.

"You," she answered simply, without hesitation. What was he getting at? Why else would she go to the one place she knew he might be after her disappearing act?

"Mm, music to my ears," he murmured with a smile and they were in his car, Dembe speeding off to whatever flavor of safe house or accommodations he was currently residing in.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Well here's chapter three. Obviously there will be at least a fourth chapter to finish what this one started with the little talking they did do. I hope it's good, but only ya'll can tell me that! AS I said, please no flames, it's my first fic and it is kind of a PWP with some…minor…plot stuff. I don't even know, it's gotten away from me. Might round back out with another dance scene…we shall see.**

Red tasted divine, just as sweet and fiery and smoky as she remembered. She was drunk on him, drunk on the way he had her pinned to the elevator wall as they ascended to yet another one of his many penthouses. His body was hot, through his expensive clothing and she shimmied as best as she could against him. She felt the sharp bite of his teeth against her lips and yelped at the sting of minor pain.

The elevators dinged, opening up to a large parlor, and then he was back to dragging her around again. She stumbled at his quick pace through the lavish surroundings, the thud of their feet echoing in the grandiose room.

"Lizzie, Lizzie," he murmured, whirling her around him into the bedroom, her wrists locked behind her back in one of his large hands. She was backed quickly in the darkened room to a large four poster bed and then roughly pushed down to bounce lightly on the mattress.

"Lizzie, did I not tell you I would never lie to you?" she heard his rough voice above her, scooting her backward up the bed until her head laid in the center on a pillow at the headboard. She heard the rustle of fabric, her mind split between whatever he was doing and the warm weight of his body across her waist where he kneeled above her. He pulled her arms up, again roughly, and she felt soft cuffs come around her wrists. The snap of the locking mechanism jolting through her body.

Elizabeth felt heat unlike anything she'd felt before race down her spine to pool in her panties at the apex of her thighs. The logical side of her brain was screaming to demand he take the cuffs back off, pleaded with her to come to her senses, pleaded with her to take control back.

Her heart and body wanted him to continue. Her heart and body relished the release of control, relished the thought of being bound at his hungry mouth and hands and responses.

She relished the idea and she wanted it. She wanted it more than she wanted a steady place, more than she wanted to reorganize her life or what was left of it anyway. She wanted this absorbing stirring of emotions and passion. She wanted the way she felt when she was with him, moving with his body, moaning his name in the throes of heated sexual desire.

"Yes…but you also said criminals are notorious liars too," she replied cheekily, testing her restraints as he slid off of her body and stood from the bed. His throaty chuckle floated through the room as he moved around. Her eyes followed his silhouette.

Red breathed deeply as he moved about, turning on the bathroom light and pulling the door so only a sliver illuminated the room in golden shadows. There was no balcony here, and even if there were, the rainy forecast wouldn't allow the moon to play across them like last time.

 _Too bad_ , he thought idly to himself, _she's positively radiant in the light of the moon_. He shed his jacket, laying it across a settee underneath the curtained bay windows and slipped out of his shoes as well. All the while he could feel Lizzie's gaze on him, he could feel the heat and tension crackling through the air like the static before a lightning strike. And what a lightning strike it would be once he got his hands on her.

"Be that as it may, my original statement stands and we both know it, sweetheart," he walked slowly to the bed, the golden light of the bathroom glinting off the buttons of his vest he was slowly removing.

"Yes…" she pursed her lips, her eyes watching his hands move to his dress shirt, watched the buttons slide smoothly from the fabric. She hungrily watched as his tawny skin, covered in soft grey and blond curls became visible with each released button.

"Tell me Lizzie, what do you want?" he asked for the second time that evening. He stood at the edge of the bed smiling down at her that tight, heated smile.

"I already said, you," she murmured, her gaze still locked on the expanse of chest and stomach she could see through the parted shirt and vest. He slid the clothing from his shoulders, tossing them to the settee and crawling onto the bed next to her. Lizzie itched to reach her hands out and draw him to her. She itched to run her fingers through the soft hair on his chest.

"Mmh," Red hummed watching her face and body. Her thighs were clenched together, unconsciously moving to assuage the ache she no doubt was feeling between them. Her pulse was rapidly beating at her neck and her lips were parted as she watched him in turn, trying to move her arms every other moment.

"Lizzie, you said you didn't want to come back from that and yet, you've been avoiding me, keeping me at arm's distance. One might even say as if in regret," his golden eyebrows went up but they weren't accusing, merely factual. His mossy green eyes swept down her body.

"Red, no, that's not it and you know it," she quickly responded. Yes she'd avoided him and kept him at arm's length, she wouldn't deny that. But it was never in regret, never ever in regret. She looked up in aggravation at the cuffs keeping her in place.

"Let me go and I'll show you it isn't regret, Raymond," she murmured with a hooded gaze. She knew using his given name affected him, watched the muscle in his cheek twitch slightly.

"Darling, you don't play fair, but!" he stood again and backed to the foot of the bed to stare at her from the low footboard. "Tell me Lizzie, tell me what's been going on, and tell me why…" his voice hesitated and she wondered why. Red was a lot of things, but hesitant was rarely, rarely one of them. A moment later she knew.

"My woman," his voice was low and gravely, his face a mixture of possession and restrained passion. She should have felt indignant, referred to as his woman but if she were to continue being honest with herself, she knew she was. She was his and she'd been his ever since that fateful night. Much longer before that but she refused to give him that pleasure no matter how true the statement might be.

"My woman ran from me, knowing I couldn't and wouldn't go back to simpler times, telling me she didn't want to go back," his deep gravelly voice continued. He unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his expensive slacks giving her just a peak at the black boxer briefs beneath them. "Convince me Elizabeth, that _this_ , that _I_ , that _we_ are what you want sweetheart." He let the sentence hang between them.

"And then what, Red? You leave me here to think about my actions? You punish me for running from something so _incredibly powerful_?" she stressed the last two words and shifted to better look at him. His laugh was surprising, rich and earthy and filled with the sweet promises of the hunger they both felt for one another.

"Oh no, no no," he put a knee on the bed and deftly removed her high heeled boots and stocking socks. "No sweetheart, the more you convince me, the more you begin to understand…" his words trailed off as he stood slowly again. A switch flipped in Lizzie's brain and she was eager to get the game started.

"Everything was different, in the light of day, when reality set in." she started slowly. "I meant what I said Red, I didn't want to come back from that, but again you knew." He hummed his approval, sliding his belt from the loops and dropping it to the floor. She took a deep breath. she should have known better, especially by the way they came together like fire and ice, that her desire would be out of control, sky rocketing with each piece of clothing divested. The way his slacks hung loosely around his hips, the waistband of his black boxer briefs a strip of darkness against his warm tawny skin. He crawled forward on the bed and removed her skinny jeans as well before standing again.

"Yes," he nodded his head in observance of her last sentence. His eyes wandered the milky expanse of her legs to her black lace panties. He could see a darker patch where her wet heat had already soaked through and felt his own arousal jump in response.

"Go on Lizzie," he rumbled.

"We're so intense together Red, like…like…" she struggled for words, for a way to put her emotions and desires coherently into a sentence to accurately describe them. She needn't have worried.

"Tidal waves crashing about in the sea," Red supplied, with his customary head tilt. "The roiling lava erupting from a volcano, the _hiss_ …" his warm hands lightly grasped her ankles and spread her legs enough so he could kneel on the bed between them, "of ice as it hits a fire." She moaned quietly as his hands slid up her shins to her thighs where they squeezed.

"Yes," she agreed. Their passion was exactly like that, they were like that. "Red please…"

"There's more sweetheart," he cocked his head at her with a smile. A lascivious, sweet promise of a smile.

"Red I was scared, I was ashamed, not of us, not of what we'd done, what we'd shared," she continued but her voice was shaky. She wanted his touch, his kiss so badly. Needed him inside her, thrusting, his heavy manhood grinding against her with every movement. "Red, dammit, please!" she jerked hard at the cuffs and only managed to jar herself but her pleading was enough to move him into minor action.

"Lizzie, so close, sweetheart, you're almost there," he slid his hands up beneath her t shirt and fell against her body, kissing her soundly and she moaned into his mouth. Red couldn't help but grind his aching cock against her hips, couldn't help the battle of wills their mouths were engaged in, the nipping of his teeth or the deep rumbling moans escaping his chest. He couldn't help but stroke her tongue and teeth with his own tongue.

It was exhilarating, the kiss they shared, the static crackling even hotter around the darkened room. So close to grounding, that lightning strike was, but Red pulled back. He placed his knees on either side of her thighs, grunting as he ripped her crew neck white tee up the middle. She yelped in surprise, a surge of arousal racing around her body. He backed from her, leaving her in the tatters of her shirt and slipped from the bed. She moaned at the tent in his boxers as his slacks hit the floor.

"What are you ashamed of Lizzie, what are you scared of?" he rumbled, his fingers idly playing with his erection.

Lizzie watched his fingers dancing across the fabric and wished fervently he would let her go already. So she could dance her fingers across him instead, could dance her mouth across his body and lips.

"I _want_ us, Red, I want _you_ , I want to _be_ with you," she answered hushed. And just like that, it was as if a gate crashed open inside her and he could feel it radiate around the room. "Red, to hell with protocols and what's supposed to be black and white. To hell with this fucking draining job." She squirmed under his heated gaze and felt tears pricking her eyes at her frustration.

"Dammit, Red, I want you, I want to fuck you, I want to be fucked by you, I want to wake up and do it all over again tomorrow and the next day and the next fucking day," she cried out in her mounting anger. Was he not getting the picture? Did he not understand the exacerbating need pulsing inside her with each second he stalled their reunion?

"Music, sweetheart, music to my ears," he rumbled, dropping his boxer briefs quickly. He got on the bed just as quickly, pulling her lace panties down her legs and then releasing the clasp on her matching black bra. She continued to jerk at the cuffs until his tongue, hot and wet, raced up the inside of her left thigh.

"Red," she moaned in the back of her throat, opening her thighs for his probing mouth and tongue. His tongue continued up the crease of her thigh to nibble and swirl at her hip. Red moaned at her silken sweet taste, kissing lazily across her lower abdomen, trembling in her want. Her right thigh received the same treatment before he nibbled up her stomach and chest.

"Red, please, give me more," she watched him, panting and glistening under a thin sheen of sweat already.

"Mm, with pleasure," his mouth closed harshly around a nipple, pulling and tugging and her moan of excitement vibrated through her chest and into his mouth and he wanted more too. His rough hands slid up her arms and back down, one heading to her soaked center, the other stopping at her neglected breast to knead and pinch.

"Lizzie, so wet for me already," he sighed harshly as he popped her nipple from his mouth. His lips found hers and they kissed. The static between them mounted again, exponentially. She cried out when he slid a thick finger into her eager body, clamping around his digit.

Lizzie pulled at the cuffs again, squirming as he slowly fingered her aching arousal. His digit curved and she bucked off the bed as his nail scraped over her g-spot and he smiled against her mouth. "Darling woman, I've so wanted you the past three weeks. I've been nearly desperate to taste you again," he removed his finger and sat up between her thighs. He grasped her legs and brought them up over his shoulders, gazing at her slick swollen folds.

"So pink. So inviting, Lizzie, so beautiful," he murmured more to himself, raising her hips with his hands on her bottom and then she was lost to the abyss of passion his mouth was inflicting on her. Lizzie moaned and writhed and the cuffs were tight against her wrists and she pushed harder against his mouth.

 _This_. _This_ was what she wanted, and simultaneously feared. This pleasure racing around, the way they fit so perfectly together. She cried out as his teeth scraped against her clit and a white hot flash of orgasmic pleasure shot up her spine again. Three weeks were catching up fast.

Red moaned at her taste, moaned at the way her muscles quivered and jerked with every lick, every nibble, every vibration he provided and his hands kneaded her ass in response. How he'd missed her taste, her clenching inner muscles. When she came, though, he aimed to be inside her. To feel that first clench of her climax, to feel how she responded after three weeks apart.

Red already knew they were meant to be. He already knew he was hers, body and soul, for as long as she'd have him and longer because his heart would always belong to her.

"Mm, Lizzie," he lowered her body back to the mattress and released her hands finally. She shot forward into his arms, her lips landing haphazardly against his and kissing him fervently, knocking him back on to his haunches. Her ruined shirt and unhooked bra were quickly removed and then Red's arms wrapped around her back, one hand tangling in her hair and the other grabbing and kneading her ass as haphazardly as she was kissing him. He spread his knees wide in preparation for her next move. As if on que, she wrapped her legs about his waist, raising herself to slide back down on his erection, their moans echoing around the room.

" _Fuck, Red_ ," she hissed at the feeling of finally beginning connected again. He pulsed inside her, hot and thick and demanding. If she felt his scars she either didn't care or hadn't noticed and either was fine by him as far as he was concerned. He was so deep inside her body, nudging and rubbing against all the right places. The hand at her bottom urged her to move and she did so without hesitation or thought. Their moans and sighs mingled together, circled around them.

Red kept her close to his body, the friction his hairy chest and abdomen created a delicious sensation to them both. But it wasn't enough and he wanted more. Wanted to make her work for her climax.

He tumbled them forward so she laid against the mattress and he could control their movements. Lizzie dimly felt him rising from her body, momentarily mourning the loss of his body against hers until he repositioned her legs against his shoulders and never once broke their slow cadence. But oh the consequence of being spread open like that as he leaned forward and grabbed the head board with one hand. The consequence of his hand closing lightly around her throat. She was effectively pinned beneath his body. And she couldn't have stopped that moan that escaped her if she'd tried.

"Elizabeth," he moaned above her, his face intently staring at hers, "You're _mine_ Elizabeth. " His hand flexed around her. His gravelly voice stroking those fires inside her. Faster and faster he moved against her, her legs shifting against his shoulders as he did. Faster and faster she writhed beneath him, moaning when he growled, whimpering when he would hit that place high inside her, begging when he would slow down.

" _Mine,_ _Elizabeth_ ," he said again and his voice was strained. Oh it was fraught with unsaid things and unsaid feelings and she reciprocated in full in the darkness of that room. The static of their love and her hands knotted in the hair on his chest, making him wince but never stop. He couldn't stop, he was too far gone, he was only waiting on one thing.

"Red, Red, Red," she moaned over and over, her head thrashing this way and that and she countered his pistoning hips as best she could. Watched the muscles in his body and arms flexing and releasing, felt her own body stretch and collapse at his invading arousal.

"My name Elizabeth, mine," he groaned and dropped the hand at the headboard to beside her head, further angling her hips and fulling stroking inside her body, deeply, over and over.

"Red, please," she begged, trying to pull his lips to hers, trying to get him to angle just a little further, just a little further, so he would be grinding that bundle of nerves with each thrust. She knew what he wanted, she'd known all along.

"My _name_ Elizabeth, mine!" he roared, thrusting particularly hard against her, giving her just a slight taste of the beast waiting to be released.

" _Yours,_ Raymond, I'm yours!" she wailed and yanked him down to her lips and he willingly went to her, pounding deliciously hard into her almost doubled over body. He swallowed her cries of climax, felt her body undulating the length of his dick. Felt her bundle of nerves pulsating against him as he continued to thrust into her. Felt her muscles in her legs clenching and pushing against his shoulders and chest.

And in that instant, as he pulsated hard, moaning her name against her sweaty neck, in that instant caught in the throbbing throes of their climaxes, the crackling static of that figurative lightning strike hitting the ground with a sonic boom in their minds, she knew. She knew she was deeply in love with him.

Elizabeth Keen was in love with Raymond Reddinton. And though she should've felt horrified, should've thought this couldn't be, she only felt peace. Felt at home for the first time, cherished and adored as he laid against her body, both of them heaving in the aftermath of their coupling.

Elizabeth Keen was in love with Raymond Reddington.

And she was perfectly ok with that.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So uh this chapter's a bit long, not so much lizzington as explaining and setting up for the next two chapters. God this story has really gotten away from me. I think I'm going to tie in the end of season two somehow too, which I've never done before with writing so if there ends up being plot holes I apologize. Anyway, i would really like reviews, if yall want me to keep this going and finish it up I will but If it's just not doing it I guess not. I don't want flames as its my first story story. So uh...read...review...be kind please lol**

The morning came, the sky still overcast and gray but the drizzling misty rain had ceased. The heavy draperies covering the bay window the night before were pulled back, allowing the hazy gray to filter into the room. Lizzie's eyes fluttered open, her mind crystal clear and she loved him.

 _Oh my…._

She loved him. She blinked slowly, staring out of the windows at the skyline.

And she loved him.

She rolled onto her back, the sheet falling across her waist and mulled the feeling and sentence over in her mind. Again and again it rolled through _. I love him_ , she thought and her brows drew forward slightly _, no, I'm in love with him. Deeply. Irrevocably_. The feeling spread through her, from her brain to her heart to her toes, warming her, making sense of all the things he'd done or said or not done or said. A smile grew on her face, a deep, enriching smile that reached her eyes and her heart and she couldn't have stopped the grin from spreading if she'd tried.

 _I love him_ , she thought again and it felt so right. She felt so right, so different from the despair and aching loneliness she'd become accustomed to over the last few months. Her mind was clear for once, sharp. The door swung open, bringing her form her newfound thoughts and emotions.

"Lizzie! You're awake, and still here, I'm glad for it," Red boasted enthusiastically. He was already dressed in a black and charcoal suit, sans his jacket, and a white dress shirt. His green eyes held a slight note of relief, one she detected and immediately felt bad for her disappearing act.

"Uh, yea, I am, what's on that tray?" she watched him move across the room, a heavy silver tray pushed on a cart, laden with domed silver dishes that were yet to be opened. Ever the gentleman, Red's eyes remained on hers whenever he looked at her as he opened each dome. Eggs every way a person could have them, fresh fruit, French toast, biscuits, gravy and all kinds of breakfast meat. There weren't any pancakes. She felt a twinge of tenderness in her heart for the man. He'd done so much for her, sacrificed and killed for her. She'd called him every name under the book, cursed him up one side and down the other and he still, still cared for her. Still took care to provide her with the best of the best.

"Lizzie, are you ok?" His voice next to her startled her from her wandering thoughts and she smiled brightly at him. It almost knocked him back, the tenderness he saw in her eyes and his heart grew with the thought that she must love him. Grew with the thought that surely she was going to say it, put it into words.

"Yea, yea, just famished. I had a rather…busy night." Her eyebrow arced toward her hairline and he smiled back, all predatory heat.

"Mmh," he hummed, momentarily disappointed the words hadn't left her mouth. He turned his attention back to the tray, thinking surely it wouldn't be long before she could voice her feelings. Doubt tried to creep into his mind, he could never deserve such a woman, surely, but he refused to let it take root.

Elizabeth couldn't bring herself to say the words. She didn't know why, she knew in her heart he certainly reciprocated. But weeks went by and still she hadn't said a word. Work was work as usual, and she was shocked at how well the kept up the façade they had. Some cases were rougher than others, some not so much. Some were just plain weird and some were enlightening in ways the team never wanted to know.

During the day they worked, they kept their distance, they remained ever the "stop being an ass Reddington" and "But Lizzie, I really am just trying to help". But the nights. The nights were something entirely different. The nights were dark and mysterious and steamy.

The nights she spent with him, at his safe houses, wherever he chose for the time being. The nights he showed her in every conceivable way possible his love for her. He loved her body with his hands and mouth, sometimes more than once, always more than satisfactory. The way they fit together was something phenomenal, something people spent their whole lives searching for and sometimes never finding.

Some nights her appetite for him was insatiable, they would make love together until they both couldn't move, until they both were trembling and soaked and heaving for air. Some nights they were tender, the lightest brush of fingers and lips, the unhurried rock of their hips together, hushed sighs and soft whispers until Lizzie would sigh his name against his neck, going stiff against him and melting all at once. He would watch her, his eyes wide and dilated and his mouth open and then he would bury his head in her neck. His lips would press to her skin, her name would sigh from him just as softly. She would feel him, pulsing inside her, pushing her usually into another smaller climax and they would fall asleep like that, tangled together.

But the most important things about the nights, were the nights he would talk to her. The nights he'd thought she was asleep and he'd talk. He'd talk about everything, he'd talk about his past and his present and what he wanted for their future. He'd talk about how sorry he was for everything she'd been through, even events and actions that he hadn't been a part of. He would spill his soul to her and sometimes she had to control her own emotions. Sometimes she had to pretend to stir, slowly, awake because he was breaking her heart with his own pain. Pain over his lost wife and daughter, pain of his lost life he might have had, pain over the pain he'd caused her. More often than not, he'd tell stories, of where he'd been, where he wanted to go. He shared hopes he still had and dreams too.

Lizzie learned a lot on these nights. She learned about his role in the fire, how he was sent to retrieve the fulcrum from her parents and the plan had gone sideways. She'd learned he'd been the one to pull her out of that fire, how he'd sustained third and fourth degree burns over most of his back and part of his arm. With her own memories from the Luther Braxton incident, she was able to piece most of that night together and though she wanted to be angry or indignant, she just couldn't. He'd tried so hard to protect her from the horror of that night, she couldn't bring herself to hold it against him in any way.

After that night, the Navy had tried to burn him, he was no longer any use to them. He'd done his job, botched it as far as they were concerned and became a liability, no longer an asset. Thus started his criminal career and as they say the rest was history, he'd murmured in her ear. That night was one of the nights she'd had to pretend to wake, she didn't want to hear anymore and she was more certain than ever it only solidified her love even further for the Concierge of Crime.

His past had been an interesting few nights as well. He was a few years younger than Sam, but they grew up in the same place, creating all kinds of havocs. He'd chuckled at some of the fonder memories, sighed sadly at the night he'd had to leave her with her adoptive father and disappear in the hopes the danger wouldn't find them. He'd scolded her fondly over her choice of career, thus bringing herself really to the danger instead.

All in all, she'd garnered he'd lived an interesting but dangerous and lonely life. She wanted to ask him about his scars but she never found a good time. Not without telling on herself and her midnight eavesdropping. She noticed whenever they did have sex, no matter how soft or hard, he always made a point to keep his back from her. Out of sight or in such positions she couldn't reach it or see it in any case.

Lizzie didn't really think he'd mind her knowing, why else take the chance she was awake if not to hope she would speak up? She was still nervous to make that assumption though. And she still had yet to tell him she loved him.

His hopes and dreams were something to behold though. How he hoped she would one day live a normal happy life, whether with him or not. How he hoped she would find it in her to forgive him one day, forgive him for his transgressions, his actions and words or lack thereof sometimes, his brutal honesty that had hurt her more often than not. He hoped she would always, always be happy wherever she was, whoever she was with, whatever she was doing, he wanted her to be happy. He dreamed of having a place to put permanent roots, though they both know that would always be a dream. Red was far too notorious to ever be able to stay in one place for very long, that's why he circled his safe houses, why he had them to begin with anyway.

Red dreamed of having a family again, and that night he'd said that, after he'd fallen asleep, she had cried silently at the torn and raw emotion she'd heard in his throat. He missed being a father, missed being a husband, missed having a family to call his own. Dembe was family, they had an unbreakable, incredibly infallible bond and he loved Dembe as his own. They'd taken care of each other in some of the roughest times. The one true constant to each other in their varying and hectic lives.

But the most important part of every night came when he would pull her close, whatever side of her facing him into his chest. He'd wrap his arms around her, holding her as if he were afraid she would evaporate into the air if he didn't keep her tight enough to himself. Red would nuzzle her cheek or neck or hair, kiss her warmly, chaste. And he'd say I love you Elizabeth. He'd always end his nights with I love you Elizabeth. Her heart would soar and his steady even breathing eventually pulling her under the tow with him.

She loved him. he loved her. It was a simple equation but yet she couldn't say the words. They always got stuck in her throat. She wasn't sure why, perhaps it was fear of the unknown. Lizzie had thought she'd known love when she married Tom but it had all been a lie. Smoke and mirrors at its finest. That wasn't love and when she looked back on how he'd treated her, the snide remarks he'd cover with a smile and I'm joking, the avoidance of her questions about his life and friends and more, even down to the mechanical way they'd have sex, it was all a sham.

When she'd found out Red's involvement, it had hurt like hell, killing her inside and yet he didn't shy away from his involvement, had continued to try to win her back, continued to protect her and continued to try and that was important. That was love. The all-consuming way their bodies came together, sighs and moans, thrusts and grinds, all the world gone except each other when they made love. That was love. He'd shown her true love and she was scared to death of losing it. Why, she had no earthly idea, it was just her bad memories, her own ghosts deceiving her mind into the darkness.

Those weeks turned into months. Months had gone by and still Elizabeth had not told him she loved him. Red was concerned, worried it was fleeting in the moment emotions that held her to him. He was scared she would end what they had going and he wasn't sure his heart could take it. He wasn't sure that was a disappointment he could survive in any way shape or form. The longer the months stretched on, the more and more his doubt grew.

He was a criminal, and she was the FBI. There was no way in hell they could be together. He was dirty, scorched and muddled from the criminal life he lived, a stain on her life and his demons threw that in his face every chance they got. With each night he told her I love you, hoping she would be awake, hoping she would whisper I love you Raymond back, and each night she did not answer his demon's laughed. Long and loud and hard in the back of his mind.

 _You'll never be what she wants or needs_ , they sneered, _you'll never be good enough, you'll never be clean._

And with each passing day those demons got louder and louder until he couldn't stand it anymore. Red was sick at himself, how could he have dared to touch her so intimately? How could he have dared to call her his woman? And yet he knew he could never take it back, he never wanted to. Raymond Reddington wanted what he wanted and he wanted Elizabeth Keen.

Red wanted so desperately to hear her say those three words. He wanted so much to say them to her when she was awake, to see her reaction, to see her smile and throw her arms around him, kissing him soundly and vigorously and murmuring I love you again and again against his mouth. However, he knew he couldn't say it first. She had to be the one to take that step.

But as each case came to a close, each night went by unanswered, he began to doubt seriously that would ever happen. It was getting harder to ignore those demons, harder to not want to cut and run to save himself the awkward break up he was so scared would come. To save himself the heartache of spoken words that could never be erased from his mind.

And yet he stayed, he couldn't bear the thought that he might hurt her if he was wrong. And he dared hope he was grievously wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: *ducks from oncoming thrown objects* OK LISTEN JUST LISTEN. Ok this chapter is short, I took some liberties with it as well and it loosely follows the end of season two to suit my needs and it's angsty I get that I know BUT BUT Next chapter is the chapter and it's gonna be great I dearly hope you all stick around to read it because the next chapter is most definitely going to be mostly if not all lizzington and it's gonna be put up in the next hour or so. Ok so just, ok just stick with me. Because next chapter is going to be worth it. at least I hope you all agree…**

The Cabal. It seemed such an innocuous title, The Cabal. But they were full of dreadful people, crooked senators and cops, broken by their own greed and need to own the world. And each case was bringing them closer to the breaking point. Each case wove deeper and deeper into the deception this group had incurred, the corrupt and dirty. Each case was bringing them further into the fray.

Lizzie knew they were getting sucked deeper every day and every day she resolved to tell him how she felt but it never felt like a good enough time. It never felt right. She'd picked up on his demeanor, the way he seemed just a little more desperate when he said _I love you Elizabeth_. The way he held her tighter and tighter, sometimes almost painful.

His changes were bleeding into their love life. A slightly harder than necessary nip here, a strangely deep and significant thrust there. He would stare at her for longer periods of time, kiss her with a hunger so strong she was always blown away by how deeply his love went for her. How deep his _need_ for her went. And she knew he was waiting on her. He was waiting for her to say it.

She knew with each day of her passing silence he was growing more and more doubtful of her emotions and that killed her.

When their professional life had begun to escalate though, it had slipped from both of their minds. Yes it was always there, niggling in the back of their subconscious. But they knew everyone was in danger.

Red had carefully outlined in detail for the task force just how far in danger as well, as if to make a point that tomorrow wasn't promised. The way his mossy green eyes had locked on her wasn't lost on anybody, least of all Lizzie. That night, he'd woken her every few hours to have her. Her voice had gone hoarse with the amount of moaning and screaming she'd done and in the morning, he'd had her again before work.

Lizzie needed to tell him, and she needed to tell him soon.

Their next few cases were a strain on them. A strain on all of them starting with Vanessa Cruz. Lizzie still didn't know his angle with the sexy con artist and it bothered her to no end. He'd already told her he thought of jealousy as a base emotion but she couldn't help it. She was just that kind of woman. What was hers was hers. And the argument that evening after the blacklister had gotten away was one to rival any he'd ever had with any other person he knew.

After the screaming and the yelling and the "you never tell me anything Red, it's annoying"s, after he'd admitted he'd wanted to get the woman into his ranks for her talents, Lizzie had shown him just how much she disliked the idea of other women around him, just how much her jealousy ran. And when she'd came, back arched atop him, her fingers knotted in the hair on his chest, she'd muttered "you're fucking mine" and it was then that Red decided maybe jealousy wasn't so bad.

However, the next day, when Lizzie finally agreed to give him the fulcrum, because she knew in her heart he wasn't going to take off, things had gone south. Very, very south.

She could still smell his blood all over her, hear his muffled grunts of pain as he laid bleeding out in the back of the car while Dembe drove like a bat out of hell. She could hear the gunshots being fired from all around them. Hear the pings of bullet ricocheting, feel her heart beating wildly in her chest. It was as if time slowed down while they were in the fire fight, everything happening at just one tenth of a second and yet at warp speed as well because then they were rushing to the abandoned warehouse. Mr. Kaplan was there, a team already waiting on standby. Those mossy green eyes, the green eyes she loved so much were on her, hazy at his blood loss.

"Caul, Lizzie…you've..you've got…to find…Leonard Caul," his weak voice, broken had whispered to her. She'd grabbed his hand, holding it close as his team rushed to begin surgery. "Lizzie, please, Leonard Caul…" and then he was being wheeled away and she was stuck on autopilot. She'd put her team on it, only to have Dembe send her to Red's flat to retrieve a box and key.

And lo and behold, Mr. Caul found her there. And she'd seen what was on the fulcrum. And she'd been speechless, absolutely speechless. The names she'd seen, the crimes they'd committed. Red had been right when he said they wouldn't be able to fathom the reach and corruption of this one global conglomerate.

Things sped up again. They'd been betrayed, a team was inbound to kill him and she'd never even got to say I love you yet. Until she hatched a plan. A plan that took her to The Director with the fulcrum, after she'd made copies. A plan that had her rousingly furious and demanding he call the hit on Red off and do it _now_. She'd tipped her hand, shown her loyalty and where it truly lied.

"You called his bluff, and you lost," she'd said scathingly before leaving.

And in the process, gotten herself a target painted on her back. But when Dembe called, when he told her "He is safe Elizabeth." She'd broken down, crying, clutching her phone and vowing when the appropriate moment arrived, those words were leaving her mouth if she had to strangle herself to say them.

That night, even with his wound and needing to heal he'd been desperate to love her. Desperate to have her. And tears had fallen silently down her cheeks as they made love. So slowly, so infused with tenderness it damn near drove her mad with the sensation. He was silent that night and neither of them particularly slept. A storm was brewing, a storm was already here and it was only a matter of time.

And he'd whispered, _I love you Elizabeth_ into her ear, so raw and open, and he'd waited. Waited and waited for her answer, sure she was awake, but none had come. A fitful night had been his reward, a fitful night for her too. Full of nightmares and grievances.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I don't own anything at all ever and also sorry for any continuity errors that may be present. I did my best to check and double check. I'm thinking one more chapter, an epilogue of sorts.**

The next two cases changed Elizabeth's life. For better or for worse, she didn't know yet but they had. One case had been emotionally draining. A man named Quon Zhang was responsible for ferrying things, people included in an assortment of unsolved bombings and cases from the FBI. His job this time was to grab a woman, murder her, and have her laid to rest with her ex-fiancé all so his family would stop being haunted by the jilted lover. _What the fucking hell?_ She'd thought to herself. But it revealed another tidbit about the Cabal. They were using a man name Karakurt to murder a senator with biochemical warfare.

That's when things seemed to have gotten worse. Or what she could call worse. Karakurt was already in the country, smuggled in while they'd been distracted with the case. And he was on the loose. The Cabal's influence seemed to have no end of disposable weapons and people.

That's when shit got dangerously close to the fan. Elizabeth found out even more about her past, more than her eavesdropping nights had afforded her. Her mother was a KGB agent and she'd been born in Russia. When Red had dropped that bomb, some things started to piece together a little too well. Why else would a Russian assassin be out to kill a senator on a case Lizzie just happened to be a part of? She'd ignored it and done her job.

Ressler and she had been on the way to get Karakurt, provided in tip by Red. Cooper called, redirected them and instead they'd gone to the train station, where Karakurt had actually been and she'd been blindsided. Her head still hurt from hitting the wall.

Fast-forward.

And then shit hit the fan.

Karakurt was supposed to be at the conference to infect the senator, they'd gotten there, she'd tackled him away from touching the man's hand. They'd made their escape. Only the senator had been infected anyway. He'd been rushed to the hospital only to die a few hours later. Testing proved everyone clean.

Except her.

She'd overheard director Cooper, heard the Cabal's reach and influence. Heard how they were going to pin and blame her. She'd narrowly escaped. Narrowly.

And then later, when she'd met with Cooper and Connelly to force him to make everything go away. To force him to exonerate herself and to step away, he'd laughed at them. Connelly had left and she'd seen red. He jovially told of how he was going to ruin them all, one by one, and then he'd said he'd get the death penalty for Red. She'd snapped, drawing her gun, shaking and filled with a palpable rage. He'd laughed even more, saying the Cabal was everywhere, he would just be replaced and then she'd shot him. In cold blood. To protect the one man she truly loved. To protect her friends and Cooper had said, " _Run_." And run she had. Straight to red, who was waiting, who already knew. Straight to his jet, on standby and straight out of the United States, to someplace extradition didn't exist to begin work on clearing her name.

Clearing out the Cabal.

"Lizzie it was dangerous and reckless!" Red bellowed, slamming the bottle of wine on the bar in their suite. Some beautifully rustic hotel in the Côte d'Ivoire, with a view that managed the wonderful city and the ocean as well.

Lizzie glared angrily at him, breathing as heavily as he was. They'd been arguing for an hour now about her actions. She'd known that it was dangerous and reckless, thinking she could get Connolly to roll over like a well tamed dog and walk away, doing her biding. She'd known but she'd had to try.

"Elizabeth, I have told you, specifically, the reach of the Cabal is vast, you never should have gone there, and you never should have-"

"Dammit, Reddington I fucking know ok? I got it I screwed the hell up again, screwed up all your perfect plans and perfect images of everything!" she screamed, her anger and pain at a tipping point. It boiled over completely. She was so angry, could he not see why she'd done what she'd done, could he really not understand? Was he seriously so stuck on her actions that he couldn't see what had led her to at least try?

Red looked as if she'd slapped him. She hadn't called him by his full last name since they'd begun their relationship.

"Lizzie," he sighed, leaning against the bar, shaking his head and it only fueled her anger further, though she couldn't' fathom why. "My life, it doesn't matter, I can handle myself, you never should have pull-"

"No, fuck you! Fuck you and all your fucking plans and plans for failed plans, fuck everything! If you can't see it now, you never fucking will!" she yelled cryptically, leaving him in the dining area and stalking to the guest bedroom of the suite. She slammed the door and threw the lock as hard as she could manage.

Red slept alone for the first time that night. He'd tried to talk to her again, knocking tentatively on the door and when she'd ignored him he'd sighed and gone to their bedroom. He'd left the door open all night in the hopes she would come back to bed. But she didn't. She cried herself to sleep. How could he not see how much she loved him? How she'd acted so rashly, not out of fear but out of love for him?

She'd make it clear then tomorrow morning.

Red was already dressed when she exited the guest room the next morning. All she had on her mind was telling him. Telling him how she felt. He'd apologized for his part in the argument, yammering on and on about what their next steps should be, contacts he had, plans that were already in motion. She'd sat at the heavy African wood table, glanced at all the platters that were already laid out across the tablecloth.

She'd watched him move around, in bare feet no less, fixing her a plate and setting it in front of her, pouring himself a cup of a coffee after pouring hers. This was it. This was it.

"I love you."

Slow motion to her eyes as he dropped the coffee cup, his voice abruptly stopping mid-sentence. It fell, tipping and spilling and flowing. The dark aromatic liquid flowed across the top of the pristine white carpet before abruptly being absorbed into its fibers next to Red's bare foot.

"Pardon?" his own voice sounded hoarse to his ears. Had he heard her, truly heard her voice saying those three words he'd been dying to hear, he'd begun to doubt he'd ever hear from her ever? His heart beat uncomfortably hard in his chest, making his sore and healing wound pulse in beat with it. She sat rigid in her seat at the breakfast table. It seemed absurd, the scene unfolding in such settings, the warm colors of the walls in the kitchen. In front of the balcony with the magnificent view. He had a penchant for views.

She trembled a bit, her heart also racing and wild. With everything going on, with the Cabal trying to tighten the proverbial noose, what better time to tell him she loved him than at breakfast, the day after they'd fled the country? What better time to tell him, than the morning of their official beginning of refugees? Than of the day their journey to clear her name, take down the cabal and muddle through the mess she'd made by shooting Tom Connelly all for Red? Than of the morning after another one of their biggest fights they'd ever had, all over the fact that she had pulled the trigger regardless because he'd threatened Red? She couldn't think of a better morning. She couldn't' think of a better time.

"P-pardon, Elizabeth, I don't think…I heard you right?" his eyes bore hard into hers and she swallowed hard.

"I said I love you, Red," she enunciated clearly, making sure he couldn't mistake it, making sure he could hear her adoration for him, making damn sure he understood the gravity of the moment.

Slow motion was over.

Red strode furiously toward her, mumbling under his breath. She stood quickly, taken aback by his sudden movement, knocking her chair on its back as he reached her. his hands close like vice grips on the sides of her neck, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep her immobilized. At least her head. Because she had a moment to register his mumbling, a low and raw chorus of I love you over and over again and then he was kissing her. The wave of emotion she felt in his lips, in his tongue as he made love to her mouth made her stumble back a bit and he stumbled with her. He groaned unabashedly into her mouth when her back hit the wall next to the open balcony doors and she startled into action.

Lizzie wrapped her arms around his waist, her fingers clutching the material of his vest and dress shirt at his lower back and he broke the kiss.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he seemed stuck on the words, mumbled against her neck and cheek and chin and jaw and she was quick getting lost in the tidal wave with him. Their love was branding, it was deep, it was final.

"I love you, I love you, I love you, Elizabeth," he loosed his hands sliding one around her shoulders and the other into her hair holding her crushingly to him. She could feel his heart beat, wild and erratic, matching her own.

"I love you Red, I love you too, Red," she mumbled back clutching him just as tight and she heard and felt his heart beat skip and pick up double time. With a groan, he whirled her around, backing her to the edge of the heavy table and with a sweep of his arm he knocked every damn thing off of it. Plates and glasses and silverware went flying, food and drinks and condiments splattering to the carpet and to the opposite wall. He lifted her onto the edge sliding her back and laying her down, half crawling on top of her. He kissed her like a dying a man, kissed her as if she were his world and she knew she was.

"Elizabeth," he groaned, standing, his mossy green eyes dark and dilated. "Elizabeth." His deep baritone was gravelly with his need. Because she couldn't call this clash just want, she couldn't call it just passion because she felt it inside herself as they worked to get her jeans off in record time. She could feel it growing, feel it molding and blossoming in the wake of their words. See it in the way he flung her jeans to the side, ripping her deep blue blouse, buttons pinging off the table as they flew into every corner of the room. She yelped in surprise and groaned when he slid her panties from her legs, his lips trailing down her left leg as he did so.

" _Elizabeth_ , I love you," he murmured again kissing back up her legs and she was momentarily thankful he had to turn his intensity toward his own clothing. His vest and dress shirt receiving the same treatment, his muscles bulging and relaxing as he slid the offending items from his body quickly. Her eyes lit to his gunshot wound, still healing but no longer crusted, no longer mottled blue and purple. But it was a yellowish green, and he caught on.

"Fine," he mumbled, slipping his slacks and boxer briefs off quickly. She moaned when his thick and heavy arousal fell against her leg, hot to the touch. Silky smooth skin stretched taught and she needed him as much as he needed her.

" _Red_ ," she moaned reaching for him and he fell to her, holding himself up with his good arm, let his other hand grasp her breast underneath her torn blouse and squeeze.

"My name, Elizabeth, my _name_ ," he suckled her jaw, her neck, down her chest to her exposed nipple and sucked it hard into his mouth, the rosy pebbled skin tasting divine to his wandering tongue. She cried out then, a breathless whimper of a sound and he had to know if she was as wet as he was hard. His hand trekked her abdomen and passed by her thigh, coming through the neatly trimmed hair of her mound to slide down to her open lips.

"Red," she groaned as his fingers slipped inside her soaked body, weeping for his hand, weeping for her turgid member.

"My name, please," he managed to say around her nipple, nipping across her chest to deliver the same sinful dance of sucking teeth and tongue to the other one and she moaned, arching against him. His fingers pumped her body, bringing her ever closer to the edge, and she writhed against the table, the cloth beneath her bunching and shifting with her movements.

"Elizabeth," he moaned and decided he needed her now. Her climax could wait, tasting her divine supple lips, sweet and swollen with her want could wait, he needed inside her more. Needed to pound her body to show her he meant those words.

" _Elizabeth, I love you_ ," he groaned, he couldn't' stop saying it, couldn't help the emotion from overflowing and oh how it flowed from his body. He straightened, sliding a knee up onto the table beneath one of her legs, slinging said leg against his uninjured shoulder. She wrapped her other leg around his waist and his large hand grasped that thigh, kneading it and holding her steady to him. He canted his hips and then he was inside her, his thick pulsing arousal in sync with her swollen wet body.

" _Elizabeth,_ " he groaned and his eyes fluttered shut. She felt even more supple, even more soft and tight and so, so inviting. And she loved him.

He thrust once against her, moaning with her at the feeling, the sensation of how deep inside her he was striking them both. Her hands combed through his chest hair and he thrust once more again.

 _And she loved him._

Red watched her face, scrutinizing every furrow, every flutter of her lashes, every moan leaving her body, the way she pushed and pulled just like she collapsed and stretched around his body at the same time. His slid the hand of his injured side down to grasp her hip, his need escalating and her moans followed suit. She yelped and keened and thrashed and her eyes never left his face.

 _And she loved him._

Fever pitch and growing, the table shook with his movements, his shoulder ached and he couldn't care less. He felt a burning sting and knew he'd ripped his outer stiches and he still couldn't have cared less. He fell forward onto that same hand, the jolting pain burning through his arm and chest made him feel even more alive. Because he knew everything would be ok, because…

 _She loved him_.

 _Dear_ God _she loved him_.

Elizabeth held on for dear life, held on because he was crazed with his hunger. She was drowning in the waves with him and nothing outside of his body against her, his arm next to her head, his hips grinding with each powerful thrust against hers mattered the least little bit. _This_ felt right, _this_ felt like what love was supposed to be. An all-consuming meeting of souls and bodies and lips, his lips so hard on hers as he fell against her body, her leg sandwiched between them.

And she knew it was because _she loved him._

Her orgasm blindsided her, flailing and wild and electric with its shocking spike of pleasures, so much deeper than before, and she felt the pulsing to her toes and every strand of hair on her head. Heard herself cry out his name, _"Raymond!"_ and saw his reaction in his face, just above hers. Her walls contracting as if squeezing the very life from him through his dick and she called his name again, breathless as he came with her.

And her name joined the chorus of pants and cries around the room, swirling throughout the stainless steel appliances, bouncing of the cherry red cabinets and tile floor in the kitchen area, soaked up by the carpet beneath the dining area there were in. he slammed his hips against hers, and she felt hot tears on her face just as she felt hot spurts of his seed again and again deep inside her.

She didn't realize she was crying with him, wrapping her arms around him as best as she could with the pretzel way they were against the table.

"Elizabeth, I love you sweetheart, I love you _so goddamned much_ ," his husky panting breath whispered into her ear. And she heaved, taking in as much as air as she could, trying to calm both of their racing hearts.

"Raymond, I love you, I love you _, I love you_ ," she echoed his earlier mantra. Because she did. God she did and nothing was going to take that from them. Nothing was. Not the cabal, who would later try. Not the FBI, who they both knew would not approve though later it wouldn't' matter anyway. Not the judgements of any passerby or even their friends, who only looked out for their well-being. No one could take that from them. They were in too deep. And they never wanted to find a way out of this one.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So this is the final chapter. Complete lizzington smut really, a few feels, a few awws etc etc. thanks everyone for following and for the kind reviews and words. I'm thinking about making a new lizzington story, but not sure yet. Anyway, disclaimed as always. The song used was The Troubles by U2. Even if you aren't a U2 fan, I recommend listening to it. It's a great song and I love it!**

Lizzie didn't usually do this kind of thing. At least, not until that fateful night that felt so long ago. She smiled wistfully of the memory. The long way they'd come from that night…the first time she'd danced for him…

Shaking her head, she continued rifling through her side of the closet she shared with Red. Memories continued to assail her though as she looked for the right outfit.

Everything had been settled, battles fought, lost and won. The war had come to a close between them and the Cabal. It had been bloody, fraught with close calls and hurled accusations and a few career ending cases opened and closed. The Cabal had been truly ferocious. It had been truly a global syndicate of evil, interwoven through the governments and gangs of countries all over the world.

Nights that had been spent on the run, nights of waking up, frantic, the FBI one step behind, one door back, one car over, again and again. She'd cried, he'd even cried, they'd fought to stay together, to clear her name and to end the nefarious group. Which, had sadly infiltrated her beloved bureau, though beloved wouldn't be a word she'd use now.

Days that had been spent planning, gathering evidence, sending cases to the Post Office. Days spent carrying out various deals in the underbelly of the criminal world, uncovering more faces from the fulcrum, more faces in the government, more faces in seemingly innocuous places and tying them all together, like on a giant pin board with bright red thread. Red had shown her how truly vicious he could be, shown her just what he'd done to garner such a notorious name around the world. And arguably, those days had led to some of the most incredible nights. Because that viciousness was never directed at her, but oh was it always for her.

For her protection, for her safety, for her wellbeing both in body and mind. For her happiness and her wants and her dreams and _her life_. _For her_. Always for her and the sight of the man in action, not the Red she saw at the Post office in those early days, not the Red he was with her, but Raymond Reddington, the criminal, the well trained naval officer gone rogue after being burnt both literally and figuratively. The man that could bring a grimace or a smile to the face of every high standing person around the world depending on where you sat on his radar.

Lizzie smiled again at those nights, a deep crimson blushing across her face and body, heat warming her up. She loved those nights, even on the run, even the nights they seemed only seconds ahead of everyone chasing them. Those nights she cherished.

"Sweetheart, have you seen that record of the Rolling Stones?" Red's voice called out from the ground floor. She'd been so lost in her own thoughts she'd almost forgotten he was home.

"Check the drawing room, babe," she called back quickly. She didn't need him coming upstairs before she was ready. She had a special evening planned for them. For him really. She waited for his "A-ha!" upon finding the record before she went back to the closet. She was starting to think she'd left the top and jacket at another safe house…

They'd been through hell together and yet, in the last few years since going on the run, since clearing her name, since taking down the cabal, since becoming an integral part of his team and operation alongside becoming his wife…

Oh their wedding, her thoughts detoured through the memories. Their wedding had been quiet, just their closest friends, mainly Aram, Samar, Dembe and a few others. A quaint town somewhere in the Alps, she'd forgotten the name, but never the old church. Never had his black and charcoal suit fitted him so well. The way her own black and charcoal dress had hugged her, her bouquet of wine red roses almost striking against her pearlescent skin and the dark hue of the satin dress. The colors of fall around them, the warm way he'd smiled at her, speaking his vows and then she hers. And then he'd said, _I love you Elizabeth Reddington_ , and it had never felt so right. Never had anything felt so right than to hear him murmur those words, that deep baritone. And she'd murmured back _, I love you Raymond Reddington_ , and they'd kissed. Their friends whooped and hollered and they'd broken apart, smiling against the others lips…

…And yet, his scars, her misgivings, his misgivings about them, about her, her harsh words spoken brashly before she'd known everything….

None of it had come into the light. Yes they'd put their various doubts to rest, both about their lives, their relationship, their affection and love for each other. But she'd never talked, spoken out loud about everything she'd said or done. And she knew he forgave her, and knew he'd never ask forgiveness for his own.

 _You are so damaged…._

The words, spoken what felt like a lifetime ago, floated around her head and she knew that was exactly how he felt. He wouldn't this evening, never again she would hope when thinking about them and her. Tonight she was going to make him understand. She yipped in excitement upon finding the outfit she'd worn that night at the club. The night that had started it all…

Red was finishing their dinner, the Very Best of the Rolling Stones playing, when Lizzie appeared in the kitchen.

"Ah, darling woman, come taste this peppercorn sauce I'm making for our steaks. Honey, I'm telling you one-" he was cut off when she kissed him. Soft lips and darting tongues and biting teeth and _wow_ the way she kissed him.

She slid her lips from his, reaching around and turning the stove off. Dinner could wait.

"Lizzie?" he asked huskily, his mossy green eyes narrowing on her smirking face. She smiled mischievously and pulled him into the living room of the grand mansion. Every flat space had candles on it, vanilla and sandalwood and there was a chair in the middle of the spacious room. The black furniture lining the walls seemed warm, inviting, the smells of the candles pleasant and warm as well.

"Darling, our dinner will ruin…" he murmured as she positioned him at the chair. Before he sat though, she stopped him, sliding his already unbuttoned vest from his shoulders to toss to the couch a few feet to the right of them.

"Dinner can wait, husband," she answered him quietly. Her voice shook slightly and he began to worry. Was she upset? Was she having second thoughts about their lives together? Was she deciding life with a criminal perpetually in danger wasn't going to do it for her?

"Lizzie, are you ok? Is everything alright?" he tried to catch her gaze that had moved along with her fingers to his chest. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. Savoring the warm feel of his body beneath her hands. His muscles beneath her.

"Everything is fine. Perfect actually, except one thing…" she trailed off, and smiled to reassure him it wasn't something bad. She began to deftly undo his shirt, pulling it from his trousers until it hung from his shoulders, open.

"Which is…?" Red was confused. And oddly aroused. Where was she going, what was she doing?

"Red…Raymond, I've never really apologized for my completely inaccurate at times assumptions of your motives, of your emotions in regards to myself and to us…" she started, her electric blue eyes gazing into his. Her fingers found his belt buckle and tugged it open, making him take a sharp breath. Her fingers brushed his burgeoning erection as she slowly unzipped his tailored slacks, now hanging precariously from his hips with the weight of the belt daring gravity to let them fall to the ground.

"Elizabeth, I've never thought to ask for your forgiveness sweetheart. While done-" he started but she cut him off again for the second time that evening, shoving him into the chair with a smirk.

"Red, sometimes you talk too much," she grinned and then sobered. "No. I knew you wouldn't ever either. I once told you that you were so damaged you didn't deem yourself worthy of help, forgiveness…of love. But Raymond Reddington…" she trailed off, backing over to the wall parallel to them. A large stereo system sat there, along with the record player. She turned the record off and instead turned the complex stereo system on. She fiddled for a moment and then a cd began playing. A haunting melody flowed around the room, and she moved. Dancing slowly with the beat, her hands roaming up and down her body much like that first night.

 _Somebody stepped inside your soul, somebody stepped inside your soul, little by little they robbed and stole, till someone else was in control…_

Red was mesmerized as she moved towards him. And he realized she was wearing the same outfit from that night too. The same jacket, dropped to the floor as she danced hypnotically to him. The way her body moved…

She was precise in her movements, ever twist and turn and drop to the floor motivated to make him lose himself in the song. In her.

"You think it's easier, to put your finger on the trouble, when the trouble is destroying you," she sang, eyes stuck on his. She was wearing that same green tee, those same jeans… Her hands ran up her sides again and into her hair and then she was in front of him.

She gripped his shoulders, sitting across his lap and gyrating slowly, poignantly staring into his eyes.

"We have a will for survival," she'd tweaked the lyrics a bit as she sang, "so you can hurt us, and then hurt us some more, we can live with denial, because they're not our troubles anymore."

Red was lost in the music, quickly becoming one of his favorite songs as she moved against him. Her center pressed against his throbbing erection, grinding down onto him. Her voice with the lyrics swirling around the room and his brain. What was she trying to say what was she trying to tell him?

"You think it's easier, to give up on the trouble, if the trouble is destroying you," her lips brushed his ears and she stood, circling around behind him and he mourned the loss of her hot body and movements against him. "You think its easier, but before you threw me a rope, it was the one thing I could hold onto…" her lips brushed the shell of his ear as she leaned over him from behind, her head next to his, her fingers sliding through the hair on his chest and across his stomach. He breathed deeply. Her fingers danced across his chest and abdomen, her lips brushed his jaw and neck and he turned his head to capture them in a deep and searing kiss.

The tenderness he tasted, the love and devotion, he wanted to weep at her emotions clearly displayed for him to perceive as he wished.

"You completely stepped inside my soul," she moaned breaking the kiss again. The moment she'd been building towards was coming and she needed to be on his lap, in front of him for him to completely understand what was going on.

"You completely stepped inside my soul, little by little you robbed and stole," she came around again and sat against his lap yet again. His hands found her hips, squeezing as she took first her shirt off. And then, as the chorus melted into something else, she slid her hands beneath his shirt onto his shoulders and he stiffened.

"God knows it's not easy," she murmured, conveying with her eyes forgiveness and love and hope and acceptance, "Taking on the shape of someone, else's pain," her hand slid back and to the side and his shirt dropped to his elbows, where with her encouragement, he let it drop completely from his body, to bunch at his waist between himself and the chair. "God now I can see you," she slid her hands around his ribcage underneath his arms to splay against his back, against his scars, mottled and thick with the burns he'd suffered, "I'm naked and I'm not afraid, my body's, sacred and I'm not ashamed…" she let the moment sink in for him and tears glistened at the corners of his eyes. The song continued to play but they were silent.

"Lizzie…" he choked, closing his eyes tightly and trembling against her. She gave him everything, gave him the forgiveness, the love, the redemption he'd so desperately craved but never allowed himself to ask for or feel. And she'd done so beautifully.

"Raymond," she countered, one hand snaking back around and up to cup his jaw, her thumb lightly rubbed against his lips and he kissed the pad, meeting her gaze. He finally understood and he felt the weight he hadn't even known he'd been carrying lift from his shoulders. She'd known. She'd accepted him. She loved him no matter what, scars and past included.

"Lizzie," he moaned and then he kissed her, his hands sliding up her back to wrap around her body. His lips were hard and soft and hard again, as were hers and that night. When he'd carried her to bed, the passion they'd shared was slow burning, deeply imbedded with the love they felt for each other. It was tender and sweet.

Every kiss had been lain with reverence and understanding, every brush of fingertips soft and calculated to produce the most pleasurable sensation. His fingers, sliding down her arms, their clothes long discarded. Across her pert breasts, pebbling the peaks to her soft moans. Across her abdomen and his mouth had followed, just as soft, delivering suckling nips and procuring more moans from her body. Down to grasp her thighs, spreading her for his wandering mouth and she'd cried out, his given name and his thick erection had bobbed.

Before she'd fallen into the abyss though she'd pushed him from her, raising up on her knees and kissing him hungrily, tasting her own wetness on his lips and she'd turned them, falling with him to the bed and it was her turn. Her turn to trace her fingers across his tawny skin, her turn to bring moans from his body as he had hers. Her turn to dance across his chest, his flat nipples that were just as sensitive as hers. down across his abdomen as well, her fingers ruffling through the soft hair on his chest and the harsh exhalation of her name as she'd taken his shaft into her mouth, as far as she could go, using her hand for what she couldn't was a sound she would forever remember.

He'd tasted divine, tangy and sweet and rock hard under velvety warm skin. she'd almost forgotten her own need. Red had to beg her to stop, tangling his hand in her hair because he wouldn't' tell her no if she had to have him come this way. But she remembered, and felt her own sex pulsing with her want and she let him loose from her mouth but as he tried to pull her on top she shook her head.

She wanted him on top.

 _Oh_.

So she could touch him, caress him, wrap around him and he obliged her willingly. And wrap around him she had, her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his muscled bottom, her arms around his neck. She didn't let him pull away for hard thrusts or fast thrusts no. she wanted him on top of him, her hands rubbed at his back and shoulder and the deep slow movements as they moved together drove them closer and closer. His hips were pressed to hers, rocking forward when hers moved into the bed, backward when hers pushed forward. A tango of bodies and limbs and souls.

And then they shattered.

Elizabeth moaned his name huskily into his ear, one hand falling back to grip the pillow with the intensity of her orgasm. She squeezed around him, around his shaft, around his body, from her head in the crook of his neck to her heels in the back of his thighs and bottom, she squeezed around him. And then he'd moaned her name, a broken gasp as he came too. His hand snaked out from her shoulder to slide up her arm, his fingers intertwining with hers and grasping for dear life.

Never had they felt such an intense, soul shattering climax. Never had he throbbed so perfectly in time with her contracting muscles, never had she squeezed around him, from head to toe, or he her. Never had he felt _so at home_. So right and perfect in the moment and he knew. They both knew it was because in that moment, their souls aligned and slipped inside the other, mates for life because that was just how strong their love was, their shared past, their shared pain and journeys. It was them to the end, and that was what was right.

Later they would talk, laugh and giggle, reminisce about the past, clear the air about some of it. Later they would explicitly say, in words, what all was shared with that dance she did for him. Later he would make love to her again, in earnest and later they would fall asleep tangled together, the sheets around their hips.

Lizzie didn't usually do that kind of thing, but oh how glad she was she had.

Because now she was Elizabeth Reddington, now she was happy in her own skin, happy with a man that had shown her what really true love was. Now she was her own woman, though she could never work in law enforcement again, and you know what, that suited her just fine. Because at the end of the day, she was Red's woman, and he was her man. By his side was where she belonged.

Because even though she couldn't work _in_ law enforcement, she could work _with_ law enforcement. Because they had blacklisters to catch to send to the FBI. Because as he said one day, so long ago.

They were gonna make a great team.

And a great team they were.


End file.
